Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) by Blake Pierce (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📗

Bleeding…bleeding… always bleeding.

Shebriefly closed her eyes, her feet tapping on the polished floors as she caughtup with the shorter agent. Playing fast and loose with honesty around calling asuspect’s lawyer was one thing… Lying to a suspect another.

Butimprisoning an innocent man? A completely different venture.

AndAdele still wasn’t certain of Gregor Lavigne’s guilt. The self-proclaimed historianand preservationist was an odd, paranoid duck to be sure. But that didn’t makehim a killer.

Whowasn’t odd in their own way?

Shewinced, picturing the way she’d flung her phone across Mr. Becker’s office spaceafter receiving a call from John.

No…she couldn’t just ignore her gut. Something still didn’t sit right.

Justa feeling, perhaps…

AgentPaige had paused and was looking at her now. “What?” she said, frowning in thehall, framed in the break room door. “What is it? You look constipated.”

Adeleswallowed, hesitant.

Didshe dare voice it?

Herinstincts had betrayed her before. Should she allow them to do so again? Wasshe playing too close to the sun once more? Her instincts had brought them to Mr.Lavigne. Did she really want to admit she might have missed it?

Couldshe refuse to follow her gut, though? Wasn’t that what Robert had always said?Trust your instincts…

Didshe dare?

Herinstincts had led to Robert’s death. Her mother’s death.

Didshe dare trust them?

Shepaused, her jaw unhinged like some rusty door in the back of a house. Shehesitated, swallowing, and then, in a creaking, hesitant tone, unsure what shewas going to say before she spoke, Adele eked out, “I’m—I’m not sure he’s ourguy.”

AgentPaige frowned for a moment, studying Adele.

Adelefelt her whole world closing in. She wondered how angry Paige might be.Already, she’d jerked the older agent around the country, around the continent.This was her fault after all, wasn’t it? She’d been the one who insisted theycome to Aquitaine. And now they had a perfectly good suspect with no alibi.

Sowhy did she think he might be innocent?

“If…if it’s not him,” she said, her voice hoarse and scratchy in her own mind. “Ifit isn’t,” she coughed, “then we’re going to wake up to another murder. If thekiller is still out there…” She trailed off.

AgentPaige continued to frown, studying Adele. At last, her thin line of a mouthparted slightly. She breathed, exhaling for a moment as if trying to summon atiring patience.

Butthen, to Adele’s absolute astonishment, the older agent said, “I think youmight be right.”

Adeleblinked. “You do?”

“I’mnot sure it’s him…” Agent Paige shrugged. “Not sure at all.”

Thenshe turned toward the break room, walking just as stiffly as she had down thehall. Though the room was empty, Paige passed the nearest table, moving towardthe coffee pot along the wall.

Adelestared after her partner, stunned.

IfPaige agreed with her on this… then maybe Adele’s instincts weren’t so friedafter all.

Buton the other hand… if Paige agreed with her on this, and they were bothright…

“Whatnow, then?” Adele asked, swallowing.

Paigeglanced back, pouring herself a cup of steaming coffee—pure black. “We keeplooking into it,” she said, simply. “Let the police continue the interrogation.Lawyer will show up soon enough anyway.”

Adelebreathed a soft sigh.

AgentPaige was right. The lawyer would arrive soon, undoubtedly. The killer, if hewas still out there, would strike again, soon. Which meant they were runningout of time. But where else could they look? What else could they do?

Asif sensing her thoughts, Agent Paige raised her phone and gave it a littlewiggle. “I took pictures of that folder from Mr. Becker. Makes it easier tocompare the pages side by side. I can send you a copy if you like.”

“Thepotential victims?”

“That’sright.”

“Thereare dozens.”

“Twenty-three.”

Adelewinced. “Too many. We’ll never find the correct victim in time.”

“Maybenot. But if we’re right about being wrong…” Paige sipped the steaming cup ofblack coffee and tipped her head down the hall toward the interrogation room, “thenwe better start somewhere.”

Adelesighed, but then nodded once, slowly sliding into one of the break room seatsand pulling out her own phone. “Can you send me those pictures?”

“Yes.Coffee?”

“Sure,thanks.”

AgentPaige paused for a moment, and then said, “Sugar?”

“Sure.Thanks.”

InPaige’s words, if they were right about being wrong, then the killer was stillon the move. Time was almost up. They had to hurry… no time for despair now.Adele had to find something.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

“Justadmit it, damn it! So we can all go home!”

Thevoice echoed down the hall from the break room and Adele winced. The lawyer hadarrived nearly an hour ago, and still, the locals were interrogating Mr.Lavigne.

Eveningstretched across the break room, peeking through the windows across the longhall of the small-town police station. Adele could hear, through the break roomglass, more shouting from the interrogation room.

Shereturned her attention to her phone, her eyes aching from the strain of staringat the screen.

Fornearly two hours now, she’d gone through the three pictures of Mr. Becker’scursive notes. Not quite a spreadsheet, but readable enough.

Adele’sleft hand steadied her phone, while her right hand gripped a pencil, pressed toa yellow legal pad. She frowned as she flipped to the third and final page. “EmmaMartin,” she murmured, softly… “Did they get back on her yet?” she calledacross the room.

AgentPaige, who was already on her third cup of coffee, held up a silencing finger,frowning a shade to match the contents of her cup. She scrolled through herphone and in an annoyed tone asked, “Who?”

“EmmaMartin,” Adele returned. “Bought the property September twenty-third. Theoriginal offer was—”

“Yes,”Paige snapped, impatiently. “Yes, they got back. She’s still alive, stillliving in Cheshire.”

Adeleblinked. “Cheshire. That’s near London, isn’t it?”

Paigeshrugged. “Do you have Emile Schroeder? Just came in.”

Adeleglanced at her legal pad, scrolling through the finely detailed information.She paused, then tapped against the sheet. “Yes,” she said, quickly. “Germany,right?”

AgentPaige wrinkled her nose. “How about Steven Everett?”

Adelesighed, glancing at the sheet again. Then she shook her head. “Which page?”

“Third,bottom name,” Paige returned, taking another long sip from her coffee mug. “Iswear, I don’t know what we pay these desk jockeys for,” she muttered darkly. “Getpaid just as much as me to sit on their fat asses by their computers and ittakes them a year to get me some simple information.” She downed her cup andpushed away from the table, turning to pour herself a fourth cup. She cursed,though, finding